


A Mid-Autumn Night's Dream

by inyourbrain



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Canon Compliant, F/F, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inyourbrain/pseuds/inyourbrain
Summary: Jamie’s life was a Shakespearean comedy.Gentle or violent, irony reared its ugly head to remind her just how comedic life could be.Shakespeare wasn’t about the enjoyment of his characters though, was he? Comedies were rarely for their protagonists.At least it wasn’t a tragedy.Jamie's life leading up to Bly manor, from foster care to prison. Snapshots of what lead her to Dani, and why, even after the exhaustion of it all, she let her in.Also smut, y'all know it's coming.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 34
Kudos: 227





	A Mid-Autumn Night's Dream

Jamie’s life was a Shakespearean comedy.

Gentle or violent, _irony_ reared its ugly head to remind her just how comedic life could be.

Shakespeare wasn’t about the enjoyment of his characters though, was he? Comedies were rarely for their protagonists.

At least it wasn’t a tragedy.

* * *

**1976**

Jamie watched with tired eyes as her plate was slammed roughly down in front of her with a command of, “eat!”.

She fucking wouldn’t and the old witch knew that. Had been doing this same nightly ritual for the past month now. What the fuck kind of shite was this anyway? A tin of sausages in beans dumped haphazardly out in a bowl and shoved in the microwave for a minute. Jamie grimaced at it. The bitch couldn’t even fork out for an extra god damn minute to heat it, or heaven forbid waste the gas to cook it properly on the stove.

She stared at the grey lumps of sausage, not truly sure if it were even meat, soggy and soft from being soaked in tomato sauce for however long it had been since it had been packed. How much could this have cost? Fucking no more than five pence.

“EAT,” she demanded, eyes bulging from her head as she leaned over the table to square herself up to Jamie. The crow’s feet lining her face straightened out with her effort. Not enough, Jamie noted with petty satisfaction, for the lines to fully disappear. She was too fucking ugly. She’d sat shoving potato and steak into her mouth in front of her for the third night in a row, chomping down with greying brittle teeth.

Jamie did not respond to her. Wouldn’t do to cause a scene. She knew that much. Besides, this one didn’t have a patch on the last.

“Easy darlin’,” her fat husband soothed her over his own steaming plate of roast potatoes. Jamie’s stomach ached with the smell of their dinner. The crispy golden brown crust oozed goose fat left over from Sunday’s dinner.

She would not let them know how her mouth watered at the scent.

“Didn’t have to fucking take her in, did we Billy? And this is what we get?” She rambled, digging her knife into the meat and waving it in Jamie’s direction. Talking as if she had no functioning sense of hearing - a standard tactic to get a rise.

Jamie didn’t fucking ask to be taken in, did she? Would have been happier on her own really. She didn’t say it, only replied in her head. Wouldn’t do to tip her emotions to this pair.

She felt cold indifference settle in her stomach where an angry knot used to form at this kind of narrative.

In truth she was too tired of hearing it to even bat an eyelid. How many homes, how many wives, had said the same? It didn’t matter, Jamie knew, these fucking people could say what they wanted. In the end it was _her_ who kept _them_ fed. _Her_ steak they were shoving into their wobbly jowls. Her shillings lining the arseholes’ pockets.

She made no movement to touch her plate, the most defiance she would allow herself. She would let the woman have her moment and her thoughts of grandeur over Jamie for now. She didn’t fucking care anymore, not in the way she used to. It had been nine long years since she’d entered the system and it would take more than this weak attempt to make Jamie feel bad about herself.

She would have a roof over her head tonight. That was the most she expected from these people. Anything other than that she could do for herself.

She wouldn’t get a sound sleep, but sleep would come, nonetheless. After dragging the heavy dresser in front of the door, which she’d noticed to her horror upon first arrival, had no handle.

It made her sick to think why the door didn’t have a fucking handle. Did not take her long to find out. Every night since her arrival she’d heard the door bump against the dresser a few times in the night, waking her, followed by receding footsteps.

Every fucking night as if she would forget to barricade herself in. Did he think after nine years in foster care that she _wasn’t_ a light sleeper? The lack of intelligence here astounded her.

She would clutch her fingers around the handle of the knife he’d stowed under her pillow until she heard the door at the end of the hall close. Ready in case he could slip in past the dresser. And then she would sleep again. The degenerate wouldn’t push too hard and risk waking the old lady. But the nightly ritual was exhausting.

He would try harder, she knew, to get Jamie on her own now that his usual ploy was proving difficult.

“Any salt, love?” Billy asked the cow.

She nodded and the legs of the seat scraped along the floor as she rose and left.

Billy’s hand was immediately on Jamie’s thigh under the table, just as it was every night since she’d come here. You’d think the old bat would know to bring the salt to the fucking table with her already. She probably already knew though. The _door_ didn’t have a fucking _handle_.

A cold, sick feeling settled in Jamie’s belly as she turned her gaze to look at him. Smiling for all the world like her own father used to smile at her. Friendly and fatherly, like if you’d told him he was being an old, disgusting pervert he wouldn’t even have a clue what you were talking about. “Just eat it,” he said, his voice smooth and warm as he squeezed and moved up her thigh.

_Just eat it._

Her stomach lurched in disgust at the thought of how many other girls these two had tag teamed with their constant derision, ripping their self-identity and self-esteem apart. Getting them ready for this prick to do whatever he liked, _whenever_ he liked. Not even a fucking door handle to keep them safe.

Not Jamie though.

She smiled sweetly at him, picking up her fork and swirled it around her grey plate. Just as he leaned in with a grin, she _slammed_ the utensil into his hand, feeling the a small puncture on her thigh where it came through the other side.

His eyes bulged, and then the screaming started. He wrenched his hand up to stare in horror at her work. The wife waddled quickly back into the room, and she started screaming too. In the chaos Jamie had slipped out of the kitchen and sprinted up the stairs to grab her bag, always packed. She owned few enough things.

“You bitch!” he screamed, barrelling down the hallway just as Jamie descended the stairs two at a time to reach the front door. The wife wailed in the background, struggling to get the words out on the phone to the emergency operators. She ducked easily through his hand as he tried to grab her, though was not fast enough to avoid the _crack_ that rattled through her skull as his fist made contact with her cheek.

 _Fuckin hell!_ she thought, scrambling through the door and bolting down the street. _The prick has a cracker of a left hook._

Tears welled in her eyes as she sprinted down the street, confident that she wasn’t being pursued but unable to slow herself regardless. She ran a tongue experimentally along her teeth, just to be sure. Nothing missing, nothing loose. No blood in her mouth. She slowed to a walk, pulling a ragged packet of cigarettes from her bag and lit one with shaking fingers.

Fuck these people. Fuck this place. They’d be on the phone to fucking Shannon ‘Just Give It A Chance’ Winters now. Fucking hell she could do without that bitch trying to place her within another fucking pervert’s grasp. Useless twat couldn’t even inspect the doorhandle.

There were easier ways to get by than this.

She took a long draw and smiled to herself, resolute.

_The fucker would never touch another girl again._

* * *

**1982**

Jamie quietly tiptoed around the house, careful not to make a sound. She had been in a couple of times before, memorised locations. She was good at that. Knowing where everything was and should be from just a brief exposure.

Mrs. Anderson had asked her in a couple of times before. She had been an easy mark, the old lady. So easy she felt bad about taking advantage of her. That was the way of life though. It’s them or you, she told herself. She had told herself this every day she had come to observe Mrs. Anderson – an hour away by bus from her own flat in Croydon.

All Jamie had had to do was offer to help her with her groceries a few times as she struggled up the street. It was near a daily occurrence that she would wobble unsteadily from the grocers down the road. The woman was desperate for some human contact, and Jamie pushed all the right buttons for her.

And it broke her heart, but she steeled herself against that feeling. _This would be the last one,_ she told herself. _Don’t let the emotions in now._

She had been put onto her by Ricky, who in turn had been tipped off by the lad who worked in the grocer – eager for some recognition on the street that one was. _Stupid boy_ , Jamie thought. He had a nice home and a nice family, and he would throw it all away for a reputation he didn’t need.

She supposed his downfall was her uplift. The things other girls like her had to do to get by in London made her want to weep. And so, she accepted the mark easily, the lesser of two evils that could govern her life.

But this was it for her, her last job, she swore it to the heavens. The nest egg she had been saving was enough to live on while she waited for her first _real_ pay from her first _real_ job. Probably wouldn’t be as fruitful as her current occupation, but who can put a price on a clean conscience?

In the dark she passed by the ornate cabinet in the foyer, the original art works on the walls and the expertly placed ornaments. She walked silently, barely even breathing, into her drawing room. The old fool had led her there after their last brew, just something small for her trouble. She’d opened a small non-descript box on her end table. Jamie thought she had never seen quite as many notes in her life. With an easy swipe of her hand she took all Mrs. Anderson had and soothed her heavy heart.

She let herself out into the night and began the long trek to Ricky’s, quickly extracting a couple of notes from the pile and stuffing them into her sock. He didn’t expect the goods tonight. Had given her a week to get the deed done, and that was only Wednesday, but she wanted to get this over with. And truth be told she needed the steel of the sorrow the Anderson job infected her with to do it.

A couple of hours later she found herself knocking roughly on Ricky’s paint chipped door. Sounds of the record player Ricky had just bought and some raucous laughter came from inside. Jamie pursed her lips. The door opened and it wasn’t Ricky, but Stacey. Jamie’s heart seized in its beat at the sight of her, very clearly drunk and wearing the smallest, most unsensible shorts.

“Jamie,” she breathed, and Jamie could smell the hash on her breath. She hardened herself. She could not do this with her, not again. Too many times had she been caught in Stacey’s trap. It was dangerous in a way that did not just make her blood run with adrenaline, but with cold fear. If Ricky knew what they’d been up to he would have her killed in a heartbeat.

“Alright?” she nodded to her. “Ricky in?”

Stacey laid a soft hand on her arm, and rubbed her thumb over the skin there affectionately.

Jamie crossed her arms. Stacey’s eyes flashed with something. Confusion, hurt, anger?

 _Doesn’t fucking matter,_ she told herself, fighting to stay impassive. She was Ricky’s. She had made that clear enough to Jamie the last time she found herself in bed with the girl. _“This was just all a bit of fun, just a laugh, Jamie_ ”. Right. Just a laugh Stacey. Except she had only gone and fucking fallen in love with her and her stupid chocolate brown eyes and stupid dark hair and stupid smouldering gaze.

“Who is it?” Ricky called from inside.

Stacey didn’t break their gaze. “It’s Jamie,” she called.

“Are you going to let me in, Stacey?” Jamie asked low and hard, as she heard Ricky come up behind the girl and open the door wider over her head. She fought to keep her arms crossed and not fidget with them as nervous dread pummelled through her

“Get in, get in,” he ushered her inside, looking out the door to see if any neighbours were nosing in on his business. “Grab her a bottle, Stace.”

“I’m good,” she said, anxiety rippling through her chest.

“You’ll have one,” he replied. “Go and get it, Jesus! How many times do I have to repeat myself around here,” he spat at Stacey, who rushed off to the kitchen with a dirty look over her shoulder. “Fucking woman,” he mumbled under his breath and Jamie braced herself against the rush of loathing for him, for her, for this life.

“No, it’s alright, honestly, I can’t stay,” she told him fast, rushed.

He looked back at her stunned, quirked a curious eyebrow at her.

“Just come to give you this,” she pulled the Anderson money out of her jacket pocket and wiped a hand across her nose in anxiety. “And to tell you I’m out.”

“What?” he asked, taking the money. His face falling from the brief grin that had graced it.

“I’m out,” she replied. “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”

“What? You’ve gone and lost you stones or something?” he mocked in derision.

She nodded, “something like that yeah.”

He laughed, eyes roving over lasciviously. “Well we’ll find something else for you to do then. You don’t get to just be _out_.”

“I _am_ ,” she told him, finality in her tone.

He stepped back, in shock Jamie thought at first. Not many people told him no, she was sure. Until quick as a flash his arm shot out and caught her square in the jaw, and then to her stomach, and the next to her head. _“You don’t get to just be out!”_ he roared at her.

She covered her head with her arms and barrelled into him, shoving him hard against the railing of the banister leading upstairs. It knocked the wind out of him and gave her enough time to slip through the door. She looked back in time to see Stacey’s sad eyes from the doorway to the kitchen, and her gut twisted painfully.

She ran as hard as she could from there, ran until her lungs could take no more, until her legs were jelly and her chest was lead. She ran back to her flat and picked up her bags, always packed, and left the key in the door for whoever was going to find it. She didn’t care.

The tube took her to her new neighbourhood, her new beginning. She piled into her new flat, bolted the door shut and stayed there, leaning against it. The whole of her first night of her new life was spent with a stinging face, throbbing head and aching ribs, barricading the door with her body.

The whole thing had taken her eighteen months to set up, and ti came crashing down less than a year later.

She had finally unpacked her life. She got up every day at a sensible hour, walked to work. Kept her head down. Did a good job. Had a few girls. Made a couple of friends. But for the most part had kept herself to herself. She was happy, and safe. And wanted to keep it that way. Not once had she been on the wrong side of the law in the whole ten months since leaving Croydon.

But she ached. She ached for the dark beauty she had left that night. And _it was just a laugh_ Jamie, but she had never felt that way. The woman permeated her dreams, her thoughts, her fantasies. Dark eyes and dark hair and a dark soul that sucked Jamie right down.

And so, it was for that reason, without trepidation, that when there was a knock on her door at 3:46AM, with heart seizing and palms sweating, she opened the door. She had looked through the peephole and the dormant sick knot that lived in her stomach twisted to life violently.

“Stacey!” she exclaimed, ushering the girl in. “Oh my God, oh my _fucking_ God!”

“Jamie,” the woman sobbed.

Jamie pushed the girl’s hair out of the way to see her ruined face more clearly. “What the _fuck_ happened?”

“He did it,” she wailed.

Jamie helped to clean her up, made her tea, put her to Jamie’s own bed. She spent the night on the couch herself, ready and waiting. A knife just in arm’s reach. Just in case.

Stacey left the next morning, a mumbled apology and nice to see you and sorry to be a bother. Jamie tried to get her to stay, ached for her to stay and to be safe, but also watched with some relief as she left. She was just a ghost of her old life now, and if Jamie had learned anything thus far it was that you couldn’t help someone who wouldn’t help themself.

The face she’d loved had become pale, sallow and drawn. It was written all over her. It was written in the way she twitched and the beads of sweat formed on her brow, and the way she rubbed her arms right where Jamie knew she’d find tracks beneath her sleaves. Her fate wasn’t Jamie’s to control.

Heart aching, she folded herself into the same bed that Stacey had just vacated. The smell of her once lover lingered, and she breathed deeply, revelling in it.

She fell asleep, and for a short time slept better than she had in a long time, years maybe. She slept soundly until a pounding on the door once again had her launching herself quickly to the doorway, heart racing. She wrenched the door open without checking the peephole, scared of what mess she might find Stacey in. Of how much time she might have to fix it.

But it wasn’t Stacey this time. She stared in confusion as the two policemen brushed past her, forcing a piece of paper into her chest and began searching through her things.

“What are you-” she began. But she had been plunged into an icy pool, and couldn’t really hear properly anyway.

“In here inspector!” she thought she heard one of them call from her bedroom and a chill trickled down her spine.

She faintly heard her rights being read to her, horrified. Was sat in an interrogation room for hours professing her innocence. Told them again and again she didn’t know, it wasn’t hers, she wasn’t _like_ that – she left out _anymore_.

And she knew, she _knew_. She had been stitched up, Ricky had planned it and Stacey had done it. And even as they asked her over and over who’s it was and how it got there and urged her to just tell the truth, that the truth would allow for some leniency with the magistrate, she couldn’t. She might have been a mug, but she was no rat.

So, she closed her mouth. _No comment. No comment. No comment._

And days later, when the magistrate handed her four years, she took it on the chin. Defiant even now. Fuck Ricky, fuck the magistrate. They led her from the court with a set jaw and an icy soul.

_You don’t get to just be out._

* * *

**1985**

She was a year and eight months into her sentence, commuted to two years for her extra good behaviour, courtesy of Tamara.

Now Jamie was not only the kind of person to walk away from a fight, but to avoid its slippery pull in the first place. The kind of person who could see other people’s pain. Identify their needs.

She wasn’t yet the kind of person who would let herself help those people, no, she kept her help for herself and for her plants. She did not have any energy to waste on anyone else, especially anyone else in _this_ place. She would leave here, optimistically, in four months and she would have no ties to this part of her life.

Tamara had some connections, had organised for her to move to a small village in the countryside. Jamie had agreed. The city held nothing for her anyway. She was not the same person. Time inside had taught her a lot about herself. She would be better, she would help people. _This_ Jamie couldn’t survive in her old life.

It hadn’t been all that bad, being inside. She had come in an angry, bitter force of fury. A dog kicked too many times. She knew her anger made her unpleasant, revelled in it in the beginning. But she also knew that that wasn’t her. She was witty and likable, she enjoyed that about herself. Since she was a kid, she’d known how far her easy banter and witty outlook could get her.

It hadn’t been easy letting the anger go, but she had tried very hard. Tamara had helped a lot, helped untangle the messy ball of strings pulling on her life, pulling her down. She had brought a new Jamie to the surface, one not weighed down by mental drama.

But Tamara could only do so much, she could not force her to make attachments with people. There’s an expiry on everything in prison, and she would be taking none of these people with her. She whittled her days away focusing on herself, taking what she needed from the people who wanted to give it, but giving nothing in return.

Her plants were the perfect proof of this. No emotional attachment, necessary. Just water them and give them sun and whatever else they needed, and they would grow strong. Purely chemistry. Easy. So easy. She had never taken to anything like this. Mix the ingredients of life together and it would give you what it could, in most cases it would even thrive. It wouldn’t slump back down from an insult or equally from praise. That would be all she would take from this place.

And so, late into her second year in, when she was visited by the last person on the good green planet Earth she would ever want to see, it was easy to put into practice. To live the emotionless existence that she yearned for.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, arms folded tightly across her chest, leg bouncing. The woman just stared, eyes raking over Jamie’s features. She felt exposed, knew the woman was mapping her face, finding her own reflected back at her, twenty years younger.

“Hello to you too,” she shot back, a watery smile.

“Come for a lovely mother daughter reunion, have you?” she shot at her. “Bit late for that, don’t you think?”

The woman frowned, deep indents between her eyes. “Jamie,” she said sadly.

“Remembered my name, have you?” she chuckled. “Already more than I expected. Wonder if they have a spare award somewhere to give you.”

Tears made tracks down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jamie.”

Jamie looked at her, emotionless. “What for?”

The woman looked at her confused. Jamie looked back and shook her head a bit, prompting a response. “Fo-for leaving,” she stammered, confused. “For leaving you.”

“For leaving me to take care of your baby, you mean?” Jamie asked. “At seven?”

More tears found their way out of the woman’s eyes and she shuddered through a breath.

Jamie smiled at her pain. “Funny how you’re sorry now that everyone is all grown up, isn’t it? When no one needs anything from you anymore, Louise.”

She shook her head sadly, eyes imploring Jamie to understand, “I thought your fath-”

“Would be able to work eleven hour shifts and take care of three kids?” she interrupted.

The woman shook her head and Jamie watched as the same brown curls she was constantly fighting out of her own face bounced beautifully around her mother’s. “I don’t know,” she shook her head, “I don’t know. I was so young and so unhappy and confused, Jamie.”

Jamie seethed quietly, letting the years of pain and anger and frustration build a solid wall around her heart. “You were older then than I am now. Certainly older than I was when you landed taking care of a baby on me.”

She nodded, resigned, and sat back in her chair. She said nothing for a moment, perhaps waiting for Jamie to fill in the blanks of the conversation. But Jamie would not, had nothing to say to her.

She took a cigarette out of her purse. She opened her mouth a few times to say something, but closed them just as fast. The smell of the cigarette lit Jamie’s cravings on fire, but she wouldn’t ask for one, wouldn’t take one from this woman even if she offered. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, “Jamie, I know I’ve let you down.”

“Oh, do you know that?” she asked, chuckling. “Funny enough, I don’t think you really even know what you’re sorry for?” _It all started with you_ , she wanted to scream. _None of the bad shit would have ever happened if you hadn’t left me!_

She looked curiously over at her, and Jamie could see the years weathered into her face, hear the pain lacing her words, “I want to help you now,” she pleaded, but it wasn’t _tell me what I’m sorry for, explain to me your pain, let me apologise for real._ She was here for her own pain, not for Jamie’s, that much was obvious. “Stay with me when you get out. Come stay with me. I have a husband now, he says it’s oka-”

“Thing is,” Jamie interrupted, sitting up sharply in her seat. “I don’t need your fucking help, or you fucking husband. I need me, myself and I, and that’s how it’s going to be when I get out of here. So, you can take your sadness, and your regrets and your shitty fucking life and you can shove it up your fucking arse.”

“Jamie, please,” she moved to grab Jamie’s hands in her own.

She pulled them sharply away. “Fuck off,” she punctuated each word perfectly. “Don’t come back here.” Standing, she glared at the woman now sobbing into a handkerchief and felt nothing.

Those wounds had healed, she had patched them up and was _ready_ to finally start afresh.

_She bolted the door Louise had opened in ’67 shut._

* * *

**1987**

Jamie strolled into the kitchen in Bly Manor, scanning quickly over the occupants of the kitchen as she went to wash her hands.

The years in Bly had been kind to her. She had truly set herself up anew. Her anger and resentment were really just ghosts now. She spent as much time as she could want in her gardens, had a decent flat in a nice country town with nice decent country folk.

She was fucking _happy_.

The new au pair was here, she had been told she was due today. No one told her what she would look like, and Jamie had to admit she really was something to look at. Familiar tendrils of attraction curled from her belly to her chest.

 _Women_ will be the death of her, she thought wryly, smirking to herself.

She was getting used to letting people in. There was Hannah and Owen, two people she was very glad to have let claim her as friend. Nothing but positive energy from them. _Good_ people. Beacons of light in that darkness of her first few weeks at Bly.

Owen had expertly parried her witty banter with his own quick puns, rocketing right into a special place in her heart reserved just for him. He had told her about his mother soon after she began working there, and the other occupants of the village had filled in the blanks. The grim diagnosis. You wouldn’t know to speak with him, he was always bright and happy. He taught her a lot about sympathy, that maybe it didn’t have to be so blatant. That helping people smile even once a day was as much help as some people needed.

And Hannah, always sweet and proper, always ready to find her eye with a quick laugh at Owen’s expense. Hannah who had been heartbroken after Lord and Lady Wingrave. She had lost a friend in Charlotte. Hannah filled her with warmth and compassion when she was first hired, still raw and dirty and finding her feet. Jamie had tried to do the same for her, to fight through her walls and fill in the cracked edges caused by the loss.

These two had flaked away at her hardened shell from the moment she stepped foot in Bly, taught her that while she wasn’t necessarily wrong about people, maybe she wasn’t entirely _correct_ either.

She had tried to do the same for Rebecca. Pay it forward and that. Thought she had made contact, hit home, convinced her to turn her life around. But for whatever reason it hadn’t been enough.

It didn’t take her long for Jamie to soften to Rebecca’s successor. About as soon as she got those kid’s hands dirty. They needed something like this. Their lives had been tough, yes but it would only be tougher here on out without discipline. She joked with Hannah and Owen easily about the blonde, admiring in the mid-morning sun just how well the light caught her blue eyes and felt… _something_.

It just so happened the same day she had found her hyperventilating by the front door. Could see the lost confusion in her eyes. Knew the pain of being lost in the world, and she had _helped_. She’d been getting better at this helping thing. Being the best version of herself.

It didn’t hurt that the grateful smile Dani had gifted her with after their exchange had set butterflies off in her stomach to mix with the tingling attraction she felt.

She enjoyed their small exchanges for days. Found herself wandering into the house just a little bit more than she normally would have. Caught herself wiping her boots before she walked in frequently lest Hannah get on her case about footprints. Or worse, _Dani_ get on her case about footprints. They were always on about fucking footprints.

When she’d grabbed her hand leaving that night, the night Miles lost his senses and Owen’s poor mother passed, she felt a thrill shoot through her and frowned at the girl, who just looked assuredly back at her and held on for a beat too long. Could it be?

The thrills kept coming, despite the sombre mood in the house. She let Dani’s strange behaviour slide off her back, weren’t we all a little strange? She was obviously dealing with something causing her a great deal of pain. And Jamie could recognise someone on the run, so she’d let her run.

But the thrills had turned to something heavier as the beautiful blonde all but jumped out of her skin while she was kissing her. And _fuck_ if that didn’t hurt. She didn’t think she had ever received _that_ reaction from a woman before. Usually the fucking opposite, thank you very much.

And it was her own fucking fault, she knew ghosts didn’t just go away that easily, and she couldn’t help someone who wouldn’t help herself. If she wasn’t up for this that was all well and good for Jamie.

She’d left and not come back. She was due a few days anyway. Good time away to get her head back on straight. The brief dalliance into flirtation with Dani had spun her a bit harder than she thought it would. How nice it had felt to have something new and fun. Usually these playful liaisons ended in a much more pleasurable way, but not always. And that was fine.

She was at peace with herself, knew she was doing well overall, but the lightness the woman had brought to her life was something she could easily become addicted to, and she found herself thinking constantly on her time off of Dani. Or rather trying to purge the young woman from her thoughts.

Dani, obviously, wasn’t accustomed to the rules of avoidance because she had made it her business to bring Jamie a mug of poison. An apology. Jamie steeled herself against this apology, never had been particularly good at accepting them or at giving second chances.

The last time she tried it had gotten her two years inside.

But she let Dani apologise, because the lightness was back. The addictive butterflies. The hope in her eyes. The promise in her awkward giggle. And the pain that Jamie yearned to wipe from her features.

She decided then, as she had accepted her offer of a drink, to let her in before this new addiction could knock her off her feet.

Growth and all that.

It was late in the evening, the moonlight shining against its namesake. Sparse droplets of rain falling on them.

And the tale was spun.

Dani did not interrupt. She did not ask questions, pry or even look remotely like any of it bothered her beyond concern for Jamie, and something untwisted inside her stomach that she hadn’t really realised had been tightening there.

And so, she found herself kissing her, tasting her, smelling her. The beautiful, damaged, weirdo. When she pulled back to look her in the eye, she found herself smiling and Dani smiling back. And she didn’t ask her if she were sure this time.

Dani giggled and pulled her back into a kiss, quickly heating up. They had remained like this, playing a game of cat and mouse with teeth and tongue, for some time. The pull Dani had on her jacket became more stronger, more insistent, and Jamie melted into it. Felt the stirrings of arousal deep in her bones, aching to be let free.

The night grew colder around her as Jamie’s temperature rose with each tiny groan Dani released. She had wound her hands into Jamie’s hair, pulled her face to just about as close as she could get and released her. She’d slipped her lips to the shell of Jamie’s ear and breathed, light as a feather, “will we go inside?”

Jamie released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, a familiar chuckle making its way from her chest. “Why Poppins, whatever for?” she teased.

Dani laughed and buried her head in Jamie’s shoulder. She didn’t answer but reached down for Jamie’s hand to lead her back the way they had come.

Jamie felt like a teenager being led through the woods by her first crush, felt the thrill of excitement course from Dani’s hand to her heart as she sped them up. Giggles and smiles thrown behind her the whole time.

The feelings caught her by surprise, like she wasn’t a good fifteen years past puberty or just experiencing a kiss for the first time.

But she supposed this _was_ different. There was something about this one, something she’d unlocked inside of her that she’d not really let out in years. And even comparing it to then, _God_ this was different.

The light to let out the shadows trapped in the walls of her heart. She didn’t fucking know, whatever people called it. Happiness or something.

Dani slowed to a walk when they reached the front door of the manor, looked back at her and bit her lip. She creaked the door open slowly and slipped inside. If she was trying to go unnoticed, she would need more practice, but it was terribly endearing all the same.

Jamie followed her in, quiet as a mouse. The chuckle that seemed poised ever on her lungs strained to get out at Dani’s not so careful movements as she rushed them both up the stairs and into her room.

She was on her the moment they closed the door, pulling her closer, pushing her jacket off.

Jamie matched her move for move. Barely able to restrain herself from the nervous energy coursing through her, and the deep need settling low in her belly.

She lifted Dani’s wool jumper over her head, mouth immediately finding purchase on her porcelain neck. She kissed a blazing trail that had Dani moaning and pulling Jamie’s t-shirt up and over her head. She very reluctantly broke contact with the blonde’s neck. Those little sounds she made were reverberating right through her.

Jamie felt her back against the cool door suddenly, and looked up to see Dani’s face, clouded with desire. She crashed her lips into Jamie’s and pressed their bodies together wildly. Jamie pressed her hands into the smooth skin of Dani’s back, warm and inviting, and slid them down inside the waistband of her trousers. Dani groaned into her when she pressed, finding purchase, and shifting her hips so even just a bit of the pressure building between her legs may be alleviated.

 _God_ , she thought to herself, _you’re on your way fast tonight_. It _had_ been a while, yes, but she didn’t think she’d climaxed dry humping someone’s thigh in years.

Her tongue licked into Jamie’s mouth, eager and ready, and Jamie let her. When her hand moved between them, cupped Jamie’s breast and a thumb grazed over her nipple Jamie’s mind went cloudy. Almost all of her brain function taken over by simple need.

She slipped her hands from the back of Dani’s trousers to the front and popped the button, the zipper following in quick succession. Jamie helped Dani stay upright as she kicked her shoes off and struggled out of the rest of her clothes, and Jamie stared. The moonlight glowed against her soft skin. Her eyes roved over every soft curve, every small indent, over her heaving chest and restless arms as they reached for Jamie. And then she was on her.

One hand buried deep in her perfect hair, the other on her bare hip. Her fingers twitched to explore further, but Dani slipped from her grasp with a startled gasp. Her legs had hit the back of the bed, Jamie unconsciously guiding them there. “Sorry Poppins,” she chuckled lightly, a bit shakily, “eager I guess.”

Dani laughed with her, reaching to pop the button on her jeans. And then it was her struggling out of boots and trousers and pants at the same time, being held up by Dani. Her movements felt clunky in a way they had not in years and when Dani’s big eyes wandered over _her_ she could only identify the feeling as _nervous_. She hadn’t felt nervous with a woman since, well… definitely before prison at least.

She kind of loved it.

Giggling down at Dani she motioned for her to scoot back on the bed, and made to get on top of her, desperate for some of their delicious friction.

But when she climbed onto the bed, Dani’s legs had opened to let Jamie crawl between them. Denying her, teasing her. _Deprivation_ , she chuckled, burying her head into Dani’s neck once more, _was that the woman’s game?_

She bit down lightly, sliding her tongue over the skin and Dani moaned loudly. It shot straight to her centre and it was all she could do not to moan back in response. The air felt thick around them, a bubble of need insulating them against the night.

Dani rocked her hips low into Jamie’s belly and groaned in frustration, finding no relief.

Jamie furrowed her brow, pulled back with a light kiss on her shoulder and held herself over Dani on her elbows. Dani looked back at her with wide, innocent eyes wandering to her lips, but Jamie would not kiss her. She shifted her hips, extracting one leg and throwing it over Dani’s and watched, purposefully, as she gently rocked her hips into Dani’s. Her eyes had fluttered shut and she responded in kind.

And it hit her then, like a speeding car. _Deprivation isn’t her fucking game, Jamie, you twat! She’s never done this before!_

What had she said? Jamie scrambled to remember. The dead fiancé, how long had she been with him? Since the god damned dinosaurs roamed. Of course, her body would instinctually revert to what it was used to. _Fucking deprivation,_ she chided herself _, it’s Dani, not a fucking Madam._

And wasn’t it fucking ironic that the most beautiful girl in the world had well and truly been locked in a tower for her whole life. Like real life fucking Rapunzel or something. Only now getting to let down her golden hair.

_Fuck. Okay. Slow down, Jamie. Slow down._

But Dani wasn’t really letting her slow down, was in fact increasing their speed. Every time their hips met in her beautiful, frenzied pace Jamie rose higher and higher, her breath coming more and more ragged each time she met one of Dani’s thrusts.

She couldn’t let this be Dani’s first time, to climax haphazardly on Jamie’s thigh, or _worse_ Jamie to climax on _her_ thigh and her not at all. There was a time and a place for that kind of hunger, and this was not it.

Jamie rolled over and away from Dani, onto her side, ceasing their contact. She _had_ to be sure. How many times were they sure only to be very decidedly unsure in the morning and all she would have to show for it was an empty bed and sheets to wash.

Dani followed her, rolling to face her and Jamie stroked the blonde hair out of her face, catching her breath.

“Jamie?” she asked, eyes confused.

“Shh,” she murmured back, kissing her softly. “D-Dani, are you sure about this?”

She giggled, “have I been unclear?” She leaned in and kissed her more fiercely, and Jamie smiled into it, quirking a brow.

She supposed that was probably good enough for her.

She let herself get lost in the kiss, let it heat up the tight coil in her belly, and the one in her soul too.

She snaked a hand between them and groaned as she felt just how fucking _wet_ the woman was. _She is definitely sure._

Dani gasped into her mouth. She sucked in a needed lungful of air, and hitched her leg gently over Jamie’s hip. Jamie coated her fingers in Dani’s wetness, worked them over her centre to gather it up and met her hips in the most delicious thrust as she made contact with her clit.

Dani’s breath was coming in rapid pants, moans falling from her lips and, “oh my god, Jamie,” as she bucked into her hand. 

Jamie nearly came undone just listening to her.

Her nimble fingers performed their well-established dance, and she could never remember the dance ever feeling so fucking _good_ before. Never recall feeling like she was touching herself through another person.

Dani climaxed with a shiver, jerking her hips and exhaling a breathy moan into Jamie’s shoulder. She lay there, breathing audibly for a couple of moments. Jamie grinned to herself in the darkness.

Dani reached down and pulled Jamie’s hand away from where it hadn’t really been doing anything anymore, other than satisfying Jamie’s need to be close. Dani jolted back suddenly to look as she brought the hand closer. A crease formed on her brow.

She ran her fingers over the wetness there, and looked into Jamie’s eyes, her own big and… surprised?

“Everything alright, Poppins?” Jamie asked. Was she about to decide _now_ that she wasn’t so terribly sure after all?

“I don- I’ve never,” she stumbled to get the words out, cheeks reddening as her fingers slid down Jamie’s own.

Jamie frowned, surely not. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

“No!” she protested, “no I _have_. Jus- just not with someone _else_ … And I’ve never been so… _so_ …”

Jamie chuckled as she trailed off bashfully, and smiled brightly at her. “That’s alright, love. You’ve just never had any good sex before. We’re fixing that.”

Dani giggled in relief and met her in a sweet kiss that Jamie soon deepened. Her own hunger licked at her, hot, demanding and heavy and not remotely abated. She thought, _ironically_ , that for the most aroused she had ever been in her life she would likely this day go the most unsated she had ever been.

She would not push this sweet, blissful American girl, unsure how far she would really be comfortable going tonight. But _she_ was quite pushing Jamie to the edge of reason.

Dani had rolled Jamie onto her back, and began nipping at her neck, making Jamie shiver. Her thigh had once again found its way between Jamie’s legs and the rolling hips were hard not to respond to. Jamie buried her hand in Dani’s hair, breathing her in, filling her lungs with a peace her rocking hips were still searching for.

Dani built her up higher and higher, and she could feel herself becoming more desperate, feel herself just needing that little bit _more_. She heard herself panting and groaning into Dani, and when she pulled back she looked her in the eye. Jamie’s name fell from her lips and her hand fell between Jamie’s legs she _knew_ this was the sweetest ecstasy she would ever experience.

She bit her lip as Dani explored, eyes searching hers for a sign of right and wrong. Her movements were strong but unsure, trying to find the right way to touch her to make her come undone.

Jamie angled her hips downward, imploring Dani’s exploring hand to move up and it did. It found home and Jamie nodded at her. With that Dani crashed their lips together in a frenzy Jamie was happy to participate.

Like it was born for it, Dani’s hand found an easy rhythm for Jamie. She dug her fingers into Dani’s hip and her shoulder, holding her close while her hips rocked into her hand. It didn’t take long for the coil that had been steadily tightening in her stomach to release. In all honesty the girl might have had her at the door if they’d been left long enough. She came with three sharp, hard jerks into Dani’s hand and a, _“fucking hell,”_ on her lips.

Dani grinned down at her as Jamie caught her breath. _The sly devil_ , Jamie thought, _she’s well proud of herself._

It didn’t go unnoticed by Jamie that Dani was stroking her softly still. She quirked an eyebrow at the blonde and Dani bit her lip. She was running her fingers over Jamie’s centre, asking for permission?

Jamie grinned up at her and canted her hips in approval.

How ironic, she thought, amused.

_First time out of the gate and she’s already lapping me._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my dissertation of Jamie, if you've made it this far! I can't get enough of these two, and we absolutely don't know enough about our girl Jamie. This fills in my blanks a bit, hopefully it does for you guys too!


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